


Winged Fury and Fervor

by Austennerdita2533



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, Some crack and AU scenarios, post-ACOMAF canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-03
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-09-06 06:25:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8738266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Austennerdita2533/pseuds/Austennerdita2533
Summary: A collection of my Nessian drabbles from Tumblr.





	1. Rolling with the (Frozen) Pinches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As a mortal, Nesta was sleet: half-pelleted and harsh. As an immortal, Nesta was snow: full-bodied and frozen all over. Fae blood only hardened her into something more dangerous and into someone more formidable and "cold", but what happens when a winged Illyrian prods at the warmth she keeps igloo'd inside? (Nessian + combat training)

Sharp, caustic, stern, and as brutal as a lash across chapped-and-cracked lips, Nesta Archeron branded her name into the world with a bold capital ‘B’…for _BITCH_. 

She spoke with shark’s teeth and words that snapped and chewed. Oh, how hard they bit! They ripped apart affability and cheerfulness and flirtation into laundry shards of loathing because, from her, steel severity was the only sentiment she’d permit to slip free in nasty wads of spit. From all prying eyes, and from all prodding, pumping human or faerie hearts, she kept her blazing self zipped; sheathing it tight against the bone of her hip like a blade forged not from metal but from _i c e_. 

No one, absolutely no one, would dare to thaw through to the thermal plushness that existed on the inside—not without a fucking sword fight.

As a mortal, Nesta was sleet: half-pelleted and harsh. As an immortal, Nesta was snow: full-bodied and frozen all over. Fae blood only hardened her. It saddled her with more adjectives then solidified her into crueler description, transforming her from a Brutal Bitch into a Brutal _Badass_ Bitch with a razor blade tongue that severed spoken language into muteness like a saw. It empowered her with wintry weapons that armored her in igloo blocks of cold. They lurched out from her limbs in icicle tentacles to strike. To smack. And to sting. 

Body and mind forever more calloused in chill, she became the Duchess of Ice Smite and Spite. She morphed into a young woman who not only knew how to bite, but now, because of the King of Hybern, found purpose and promise in joining Feyre and the others in fight.

* * *

 “You can’t avoid hand-to-hand combat training forever, you nasty whipping witch,” Cassian called out.

With his knees bent and sweat dotting his brow, he shuffled forward on his toes and wiped blue frost free from his torn leather sleeve. “We _will_ wrestle today, you and I…”

“In your half-bat _dreams_ ,” Nesta answered with a sneer. “Like you could gain one more inch if I decided to grant you a frosty-tipped _whap_ between the eyes.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No.” Her mouth compressed into a firm line. “A truth.”

Cassian tilted his head and considered her, “Are you hoping that I’ll bark in pain when you next slash me,” he said, “or meow in pleasure?” 

“Neither, you foul pheasant,” she replied in rumbled growl.

“So maybe I’ll screech then.” He shrugged off her insult, grinning as he flexed his glitter-stitched wings at her like eyelashes. “I think it’s bats that screech and squeal, right? Wouldn’t you say those are the noises you’d like to draw from me most, freezums?”

“What I want—” She narrowed her eyes, glared into his face with her nose wrinkled in disdain. “—is for you to shut…your…stupid… _mouth_ and take me back to Elain! NOW.” 

“Nope. Can’t do that, sorry,” he said with a shrug. “You see, like a petulant, leashed puppy who needs to be trained, you’re bound to me today…it’s fate. Now put up your dukes and embrace it.”

“All chains can be broken, you realize…”

His dark eyes flamed large and bright, pinning her in place like a painted cloud against the coarse morning light. “No, not all of them, Nippy,” he said as he rubbed his hands together and kicked at a rock, “not all of them.”

“Want to bet?” Nesta said, nostrils flaring.

Cassian snarled and contorted his lips into a simper, his predatory feet nimble yet aggressive in pursuit as they circled one another atop a mountainous ravine. He loitered like a hovering hawk. Just watching and waiting for the perfect moment to pounce—to swoop in and peck at her ice cube shields with his beak and crunch them all to liquid, never surrendering until he attacked her from every which way.

_The perseverant cad!_

“Put them away.” 

He gestured at her hands. 

“No.”

“Why is it always ‘ _no_ ’ with you, huh?” Cassian said with a groan. “No, no, no, no _no_ …” He shook his head. “Does that word never grate on your last damn nerve?”

“No.”

Their crunching steps echoed against the alpine rock in soldier march, and their heartbeats whistled louder with every blustering kick of the wind. Rankled together in circling stride; matched in look, challenge, and determination; stranded here all alone, Nesta felt much too exposed. Much too  intimate in sync with this Illyrian warrior.

“Come on, now,” he purred, eyes dancing; voice ringing with jeer, “lower your whips and put up your fists. Throw a jab.” He slinked two steps nearer and his warm breath tickled her face. “Isn’t it half past time for you to come out and play?”

“Take one step closer and I’ll slash those taunting fists of yours in _freeze_ ,” she warned.

“Mmm, I love it when you talk vicious to me.” 

“Do. Not. Provoke. Me.”

Waggling an eyebrow, Cassian snickered before crossing his arms to say, “Oh, I’ll do what I please, Nasty Nestie.”

_Cad, cad, caaaad!_

“Besides, unlike you,” he added, “I’m not afraid.”

Thin frost licked across Nesta’s cheekbones like war paint at this. She coiled her icicle whips tighter around her wrists in white-knuckled defense, grasping hard and fast to the slick, cool control that longed to slip from her fingers. Her skin prickled as more of her command melted—as it _drip-drip-dripped_ away. Shivers shot down her spine and spiderwebbed across her nerves, her parted lips quivering at his approaching proximity…though strangely, not from distaste this time. 

“I fear nothing any longer,” she spat and scowled, sheeting her thumping heart beneath lakes of fresh ice. Hiding, always hiding.

Cassian’s uproarious laugh bounced off the surrounding mountain in echo. “What a frigid little _bitch_ of a liar you are,” he said.

“You fool.” 

Just one winding whirl of her icicle arm—that’s all it’d take to end him. To ribbon him into two identical blocks of ice. 

“You know damn well I can _annihilate_ you and those half-healed wings,” she said.

“Go for it then.”

With twinkling eyes and a widening smirk, Cassian relaxed his stance, gesturing for her to proceed. 

“Hit me with your best shot, Nippy. Just know that if I roll to the ground,” he drawled, “then you bet your whipping, Half-Fae _ass_ you’ll be rolling with me.”

The brute was asking for it, wasn’t he? He practically begged for her to rush at him all snarls, spite, and angry spice to wallop his smirking lips shut for good.

“In punch or in plunge, in love or in loathe, you need to remember we’re in this long fight together, alright?” he added winking.

“That is it, that is _it_!”

Boiled to the brim of exasperation, Nesta lunged. With teeth bared and fingers curled closed, she pounded Cassian flat into the ground, then landed on top of him. Her arms wailed down on him with rage and fury. It wasn’t until her opponent extinguished her flaming, flying fists with his retardant leather forearms and chest, whistling boyishly in satisfaction, however, that she realized what the nuisance had done: he’d enticed her buried power to come out! 

Yes, the taunting varmint had thawed yet intensified her into something new…into someone bursting with beautiful destruction…into a weapon that blazed both fire _and_ ice. And as a result, her old life faded into dabs of gray paint. Why? Because no steely woman like her desired to look back after transforming into a Brutual Badass Bitch Who Could Ignite. 

It was all his fault, too! It was _he_ who’d encouraged her to fight. To combust. 

Like liquid water which expanded when it froze, because of Cassian, she grew. Nesta grew to gleam bold, brutish, and bright—like liquor that bubbled overwhelmingly with the intoxicating sting of life. 

“You see,” he said, grunting as he rolled them both upright, “didn’t I tell you we’d wrestle today?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first attempt at ACOTAR/Nessian fic or drabble of any kind, so I'm not as satisfied with their dialogue/voices as I'd prefer but flushing out some Nesta post-Fae-transition mythology was a fun writing exercise. Comments are lovely and thank you for reading!
> 
> xx Ashlee Bree


	2. A CasBat Nightmare

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mini-drabble from this prompt on Tumblr: "You look pretty hot in plaid." (crack!AU)

Nesta ignored it for a week, focusing instead on Elain’s serene snoring in the adjacent room and listening to the steady _plop plop plop_ of the spring rain. She found it all too easy to drown out that pesky flapping; to disregard the _tap tap tap_ of what she believed to be thrown pebbles (but were actually thrown Hershey kisses) as they knocked then fell against her balcony doors. She found it all too simple to close her eyes. To drift off to sleep. To never once stir from her bed to glance outside.

But tonight…tonight she couldn’t ignore it. She couldn’t ignore _him_ any longer. 

How could she? How could she pretend not to notice when he beamed, blasted, and blared her whole bedroom full of light? HOW. And not just any light either—oh, no, that would’ve been too tame for a cocky, provoking little shit like him—but a big, bold, obnoxious, whiter than UV white, _bat_ light! The bastard must have hooked it up somewhere nearby, too, because it streamed in through her windows—larger and brighter than the fucking moon during an eclipse—and almost blinded her half-Fae eyes with its vividness. And with the impressive span of its wings:

 Tired, cranky, and now seriously pissed off, Nesta kicked her feet free from the sheets. She slipped on a pair of slippers, growling as she marched across the room, and threw open her doors.

“See! I knew it, I knew it!” Cassian cheered. He celebrated with a fist-pump as she stepped into view on the balcony. “I knew my CasBat signal would coax you outside. _Finally_.” 

“Are you drunk,” she replied, her arms crossed and her nose crinkled, “or just insane?”

He flicked off the batlight. “Neither. I just wanted proof.”

“Proof of what? Me strangling your Illyrian ass while I’m half-asleep?” While he smirked at this, Nesta narrowed her eyes. Scowled. “What do you want?” she asked.

“To see you in your pajamas. Isn’t that obvious?” 

Nesta gaped; her stomach flipping, flipping.

“You know…” he cocked his head to the side, his eyes roving over her until she shivered, “you look pretty hot in plaid. Has anyone told you that before?”

Throwing her head back, her cheeks reddening, she let out an exasperated _I can’t believe you woke me up for this shit_ before rushing back inside with a loud _slam_ of the door. Locking it (and this adrenaline rush) behind her.

“Don’t be that way, princess!” Cassian called after her, the sound of his wings flapping against the window panes. “It’s not like you haven’t wondered about what I look like naked…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some silly, fluffy Nessian fun. Comments are welcomed. Thanks for reading!
> 
> xx Ashlee Bree


End file.
